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The Gift of Fire
- The Gift of Fire -
Note: I originally wrote this story back in 2008, under the name Chaos_Theocrat.
(A sinister and immoral experiment is about to be carried out in the jungles of medieval Africa by a woman whose dark secret drives her first to the brink of pure insanity... and then close unto the very threshold of creation itself, in a mad effort to prove that which cannot be proven. But all knowledge comes with a cost. For Pandora Westyn... the price would be high... perhaps far too high for anyone, living or dead, to pay.)
Prologue: The Experiment Begins
Hidden deep within the jungles of medieval Africa, a domed observatory sat with its’ long metal telescope pointed skyward like the accusing finger of an upstart titan, or the phallus of some obscene local fertility god. There, a secret experiment was taking place that it was hoped by many would increase knowledge of both human and divine nature. Thus far, however, the only fruit yet born of the effort was madness... and death. The head of the project was a mage of sorts… called a “scientist” by some… whose specialty was the manipulation of mental processes. Under her will, a subject with latent psionic talent would find their gifts a thousand times more potent, either for better or for worse. On this day it was worse. Far worse, then ever known before! And in those moments, people died. For, there are limits to where the perceptions of any mortal being may roam, even freed of the shackles of flesh. This project, however, was not about the limitations of man, but rather how to overcome them. The brutality was quite inhuman, however, and thus did the screams of the subjects of these experiments echo long and loudly into the jungle, far beyond the confines of that sadistic laboratory. Those in charge were given no limits about how they were to go about things… and due to the darkness of human nature, that lack of limitation would prove the seeds from out of which terror could be grown. The local tribes were wise enough to stay away from this place, even though supposedly civilized men and women of other nations looked down upon them more often than not, due to the foolish prejudices of that era. And so did the white man prey upon his own, whilst the regal lion and the wise old warthog carry on their own life and death dramas, as they always did and always would. This vast jungle had been the site of many such dramas since the beginning of days, and it would remain so until the end of days was come to pass. Vines choked the sides of the laboratory and the observatory that rose up from it, and it looked very much a fortress. Yet, for the time in which it was built it was a miracle! Ahead of those times by generations, it was. Whilst most of the world was recovering from the fall of the Roman Empire and the rise of Christendom and Islam as rival world powers, all eyes were looking anywhere but here. And that anonymity was the very cloak of secrecy needed by she who held sway over that building.
Part One: Mind Over Matter
'Look farther into the past, and tell me what you see.' The pale woman demanded, her voice as icy cold and utterly emotionless as ice itself is want to be. The quivering and shaking thing that had been a man responded with a voice broken by pain: 'I cannot! The headaches are getting worse, and my head is going to explode!' The woman smacked the man's face, which suddenly caused him to begin weeping. She then hissed into his ear: 'Do not try to resist the calling that drives your soul. Give in to it! Look on back, back before gods or men... back into the beginning of time. Tell me what you see there.' The man's eyes turned pure white as his power had uncontrollably manifested once again. His view of the room he was in was so even now changing from a stone cell within that terrible place in the jungle to a vista of many stars and vast expanses of nothingness broken here and there by the intensity of things being born and other more stellar things dying. Cosmic things, one and all… and all of them were beyond the man's simple understanding. It was these odd visions which broke him to the state he was in now, yet so addicted to them was he, that it seemed as if he could not either drive them away nor attempt to lessen their impact upon his horrendously shattering psyche. 'I can see explosions wherein matter is hurled forth, so cascading into other forms that I cannot guess them. But I see no gods, no goddesses... unless it is they who set these forces in motion unseen. So sweet is the pain at this point! My head throbs... ah, with the music of the spheres that moves me so.' And he heard the music, and it was not for mortal ears to hear! The message it sent out was for other beings, meant rather: to be received in future ages of time, when the listener might better understand what was heard. The man wanted to sway to the music, but he could not. He longed to reach out to those stars and galaxies that sped past his eyes, but he could not. He longed to describe what he was even now experiences, but he could not. The words were not invented yet, and those he knew would sound more like religious banter than scientific fact. Worse still… he sensed alien intelligences, but though them to be the shattering facets of his own psyche. He was slipping into a state no man had ever been sent into before… yet which had become standard practice for this project. That thought too, sent the man deep into insanity.
He was like that for over two full hours. Staring blankly into his cosmic visions, babbling about the pain and how it and his ignoble humanity affected his ability to convey what we witnessed. The woman so began, at this point, to grow angry with him and started to strike him hard with her staff, screaming with a voice like a creature out of the hells. Even so... he could not tell her more, not even if he knew what to say. All his tired muscles and veins bulged, and strained, visibly... as red blood began to trickle forth from his nostrils, then his ears, and most finally his eyes and his mouth. It had sprayed as he screamed under the iron intensity of pain, which was amplified by the woman's own mental powers. He was screaming loudly still, when his head literally exploded, spraying all its' contents all over his stone cell. The woman, expecting this, had left the room and watched the man's bloody death through the window set precisely eye-level into the thick cell door. 'Just like all the others!' she muttered, 'Too powerless to look back any farther than the moment of creation. How can we prove the existence of the gods, or of one God above all others, if all we can see is their mere handiwork, but not their hands?' She stormed off insanely determined, and if anything angry at the expense of this project, rather than at the cost in human life. Her servants were already on their way to clean up this latest disaster. All the man's blood would be harvested for her use, as always. Beauty has a high price, and for this woman, that price was human life. Some speculated it was the intense heat of the African jungle that drove her to such fierce insanity. She had been there for years on end, and could not easily recall a time when she had lived elsewhere. Even her childhood was spent amongst the tribes of that land, and it was said that a powerful witch doctor had taught her the arcane arts she now practiced. There was no other white woman who was more respected and feared in all of Africa than she! And because she had become used to being feared and respected, she carried that attitude over towards those who in any other circumstance might be considered her peers. People hated working with her, and yet there was the strangest attraction she held for those who did come into her presence. Something raw, almost sexual, and of a power both primal and impossible to describe! Just like the riddle she sought to unlock, she was herself an enigma. How fitting, then, that she should crack that riddle… that was her thought on the issue.
'Pandora Westyn, we of the Southern Circle find your methods to be too brutal and in all cases useless to yield the results that the Church of the Holy Father paid you for. If it were merely some lofty astronomical evidence for the universe being created that they thus desired, you would be well commended for what you have obtained, despite the blood you've shed. However, all you can tell us is that there was no direct sign of the gods' involvement in creation, nor any direct sign of a single omnipotent God above them… and this does nothing to settle the matter at hand. We cannot keep your expensive needs going too much farther at this point, unless your next report shows us that you have at the very least stepped beyond this... barrier... that seems to prevent any further seeing.' Thus read the scroll, which bore the seal of the arch-mage Jove Palthanon. Pandora, in her anger, caused it to burn to a cinder with a thought. 'Brutal?' she mused, 'That is nothing compared to what I will do if the next fool of a Psionicist that is brought to me is as useless as all the rest have been!' She licked the dead man's blood from her fingertips before smoothing back her jet-black hair. His death was still fresh, yet she needed another soon, if the greedy Church of the Holy Father was to be fully satisfied. Her bone white skin glistened in the flickering torchlight, which itself burned like the madness in her distant blue eyes. Picking up a cup linked to a wire that was oddly attached to a wall, she called into it for her servants: her favorite servant. The man on the other end received her summons, and passed the word along to the servants. Such technology was unheard of elsewhere in the world at that time, but Pandora had transcended time’s limitations long ago, glimpsing futures in which such things not only would exist… but become as commonplace as pen and parchment was back then, if not more so. She had the closest equivalent to those devices built, and she knew all too well that one day the Church would burn her as a heretic. At least, once it decided that it no longer required her heresies in order to solve the mysteries it now was debating upon. As great councils met to decide what was to be allowed in the Holy Bible and what was to be rejected… the secret society known as the Southern Circle was paid to find out the true nature of God, at any cost and using any means necessary, Pagan or Christian. Pandora was sorely afraid for her life, whenever a new message from outside came in. It could well be the very last!
'This new man is called Prometheus Blake. He is said to be something of a pure genius within the field of Psionics. A gifted visionary as well as a prophet, according to all this paperwork.' The effeminate servant had always tried to stress a candidate's good qualities to Pandora, at least during these initial phases of a new person's introduction into her brutal experiment's program. Pandora ran her hands down the servant's thighs. She delighted in the thin fabrics he wore, doubtless to please her senses. While breathing heavily, she said: 'Yes, my delicious pet, I am certain he must be a regular Merlin of the Psionic arts! So bring him before me, and let me look him in the eyes. That is oft the usual test, is it not?' The ever-fawning servant, although not used to the touch of a woman, could not disguise his pleasure when his mistress began to caress him in an even more intimate manner. 'Yes, milady... that is the usual... test.' To which the pale lady responded by cooing: 'Very good, then, Luca! Once I've... dismissed... you, I want you to go off and fetch me Prometheus from the lobby for our meeting. The sooner we get on with it, the better. If I can get him to look back beyond creation, I will have succeeded in unlocking the most forbidden knowledge of all. Then, it will be meaningless, which of the many churches curries for my favor! I will have them all eating from my... talented... hand.' Luca nearly fainted as she granted him the inevitable pleasure she always was generous enough to bestow. “Be off now, Luca! And clean yourself up before fetching our guest. We must make as good an impression on him as he surely must wish to make upon us with such glowing recommendations and endorsements as you describe.” And so Luca walked out of the room, blushing red from the intimate exchange. Pandora was known to be very free with sexuality in general, and she did not see this: as being a harlot… so much as it was her manner of expressing herself. To her, pleasure was an art, as was pain. As were the arcane powers she practiced. Everything, to her, was art. And art, therefore, was her way of life. “I am a witch, as well as a whore!” she was fond of admitting. Those who knew her: the best, had realized long ago she was not in jest about either of those occupations, either. To her all was art.
Part Two: Prometheus Bound
Prometheus was a bear of a man, by all appearances, but he wore the robes of a rich scholar, and spoke with the cultured manners of a true English noble. Luca found him very much to his liking but said nothing as he escorted the newcomer to his mistress. 'It is just up these spiral stairs, here. The main telescope chamber is in her personal domain, and all who wish to join our program must meet with her there and be fully instructed in the rules of this, our facility.' Prometheus... noticing the odd way Luca often looked him over... said to him at length: 'And what is a fop like you, doing out here in these humid lands of Africa? I could see you faring better buried in the intrigues of Versailles, where anything goes and often does even in the king’s own family.' Luca, detecting something of an insult in the man's tone, responded with the most cruel edge in his voice: 'You may be a scholar, but do tame your wit! It will serve only to quicken your end. Africa is known to be a violent land, and the only law in this place is that which Pandora Westyn provides for us. Remember that, should you think to try your wit on her!' Prometheus laughed even as merrily as he ascended the stairs two at a time saying: 'Well, the fop has teeth I can see! Lead on, then, friend fop, and let us see if this mistress of yours indeed has not any sense of humor to speak of.' Luca so muttered in a tone very sarcastically-edged: 'Oh do not fear, friend... she has a sense of humor. I think you are fated to run afoul of it. Perhaps... you may even enjoy it!' And to that, Prometheus found little he could say that would better his current situation. He was a long way from anything that might be called civilized by the men of his era and nation. Since coming to Africa, he had noticed the swiftness of tribal justice when he spotted the heads of dissenters on wooden stakes near many outlying villages near the savannah lands. It was nothing unknown in Eastern Europe, and the Turks were certainly every bit as barbaric in the way they treated criminals and prisoners of war. People speak much of civilization, but when you pull the veil away and see into the hearts of others… you know that it is merely an illusion, to hide the beast within. On his way south, Prometheus had seen many beasts, and the worst were of his own country. He tried to be all they were not, with his kindness and renowned chivalry. People called him a fool… but he had his morals!
'And lastly, newcomer, you are to remember that this is my own personal observatory, and these are my personal laboratories. So, you will not leave your room unless called or you will end up in a cell like all the rest before you have. Is that now fully understood?' Prometheus had stood as meekly as he could whilst Pandora ever sharply berated him like this for a long hour. 'Yes, mistress.' was all he said. 'Good! In your eyes... I see, an explosion of no small talent. But we have had enough explosions of talent in this place to last an eternity!' at which Luca laughed most peculiarly. Then the woman soberly resumed, her merciless tirade... 'Talent is worthless without direction. My powers will aid you in the focusing of your abilities. But be forewarned: none, have survived this experiment in reality.' Prometheus had bowed, and said flatly: 'I understand, mistress. I will prove to be different.' Pandora nodded and pointed at Luca, who then escorted Prometheus off to the guest room. She watched as the two totally different types of men disappeared off into the shadows of the old stairwell. Luca, with his pantaloons, slippers, and vested blouse was the very picture of a fussy Arabian servant man; his deep bronzed skin and delicate, beautiful face were framed by a curly mane of dark black hair held back in an almost girlish ponytail. His lack of any facial hair would have labeled him as a eunuch anywhere else. While Prometheus... with his wild hair, unkempt beard, and stately robes was almost the picture of that type of clergyman who was fond of his drink and even fonder of the pleasures of the flesh. Skin of rosy hue, and a voice like a lion. If he had been a priest… he could have preached mightily. And yet, he seemed quiet and subdued… unlike Luca, who was quick with a remark at any time. Men were mysterious to her. The more she pleasured them, the less she understood them. And yet, that mystery tantalized her as much as the mystery of divinity and matters cosmic. She licked long, her moist lips as she bit into a strawberry and savored the sweetness of its’ taste, sucking the juices from it as fervently as she had sucked blood from the occasional victim of her wrath. It was sweet to her… that taste… like the power she held over others. And yet, she had never been selfish even with her lusts, and if anything put others’ pleasure before her own! She was a paradox of a woman, and that is why her closest confidants loved her more than their own lives. Luca surely loved her… but what of this Prometheus fellow?
Pandora lay back in her diaphanous gown, her head resting gently upon a satin pillow as she gazed up at the planetarium that lined the inner dome of the observatory's top floor, where the telescope poked on out through a hole in a painted image of the moon. It was appropriate, the woman mused about it. Meanwhile, Prometheus looked about him at the cold walls of his Spartan room. He was grateful they were cold, since outside it was humid to say the least. He peeked out the window set into the door, to see Luca scurrying about with his swaying barmaid's strut. 'He's got the hips for it, I will gladly grant him that!' whispered the Psionicist, his voice giddy at having gotten away with voicing his almost sincere jest. Just then, he had felt Pandora's cold mind intruding upon his own like a probe thrusting in as it invaded his deepest thoughts. He could feel the power in her will, and he allowed it to augment his already considerable abilities. He was not like those others had been, as had come to this place before: as the terrible mistress noticed. If anyone at all could look beyond creation's veil, it would be this one. 'Creation's veil, eh?' mused Prometheus at that revelation of her plans whilst their thought connected in mental intercourse. 'Well, she could have told me rather than resort to this... mental rape!' And that was exactly what this was, as it had made him feel most unclean, this invasion of himself by her mind. Evil was deeply hidden within her being, he realized... and it was an evil that fed on dark obsession, and corruption. Yet also, there was something else, there was the purity of purpose and madness of temperament known only to those artists whose work people call genius. He wanted to hate and despise Pandora, but he found himself forced to at the very least admire her. That evil she hid… he sensed it was something she was unable to help. And that made him sad for her. Pity did well up in him rather than anger, and in that moment there was clarity in his own understanding of her that made him see her in a new light. “Not so much the ice queen now, are you?” he mused. “More a queen of ice and fire, I’d wager!” and he let himself picture her naked. Something about that aroused him, and made him feel guilty for that feeling. “I want to hate you!” he screamed at her, knowing her thoughts would pick it up. But she knew his unspoken words… “I want to hate you! Because you make me long for you so hotly.” His gift to her, he wished, could be more than the fire of his mind. And Prometheus wished to be unbound.
Pandora had walked into Prometheus' chambers and found him already staring blankly as his eyes looked upon the alien landscapes of prehistory. She could sense as much of this through her link with him, newly established though that link was, as through any real guessing. Placing her hands' palms firmly upon his temples, she added literally all of her will to his own. Soon, the strength of their combined effort began to have the most unexpected of effects, of causing both Pandora and Prometheus to see as if it were through one field of vision. And the sights they saw were very swiftly unhinging their collective sanity. 'It is just far too much!' audibly cried the woman, as if now pleading with the Psionicist to cease. But all he said to her was: 'This is what you wanted, is it not? Behold, the threshold none have ever passed by before!' and they saw an immense spiral of light in the heart of the primordial void, more massive than anything that had ever met their eyes. And from this spiral came what would have been music had the void between the stars the capacity to carry sound through it to human ears. And then, the onlookers realized that this was never at all intended for human eyes or ears to bear witness to. Prometheus directed his vision to pierce the spiral's light, and Pandora began to scream as millions of images flooded into her head. Over one million times a million universes: all of them running parallel to one another from the center of creation. All of them waiting to be born, from the chaos of the star-stuff in this vast... nursery. All of them being born, drifting apart, and living out their existences never knowing of any others save only at that moment when they were created together. They lived, they died, and new ones were born to take their place. Cycles upon cycles of time, and all of that without any beginning or any end! For how could the end be distinguished from the dawn… since one was the gateway to the other? Symbols flew through the mind. The symbols that early man had used to define infinite time and the multiplicity of reality: the ankh, the hourglass, and the simplest of all… the circle or sphere. So simple, and yet so evocative of the divine! There was no visible hand of God, for the spirit of divinity was a part of everything innately from the first days unto the last. Why should God need to manifest himself, when he is manifest in all of creation itself? Mankind’s vision is simply too poor to see it.
Part Three: Prometheus Punished
Luca saw that his dear mistress was now beginning to bleed swiftly from her nose, and at once he sprang forward, pushing her back from her hands' death-like grip upon Promethus' head. Prometheus, in his turn, tumbled back unto the floor from his chair, his ethereal visions ending abruptly. Pandora stood crouched in a corner, her hands over her eyes. Luca rushed forward to see what transpired with her. 'Milady... are you well? You seem...' but Pandora was very far from well, and she raised one of her hands in warning for him to back off. Luca, in his reluctant obedience, did so and went over to check on the now totally unmoving Psionicist. 'It is a miracle he still lives! Did either of you see it? What was manifesting just up behind your heads, when milady began to... bleed?' Luca's question was meant sincerely, but neither of the two in the room besides him gave any answer. 'A vortex of some sort...' he answered for them, 'Red as hellfire, and building in great power!' Pandora suddenly came back to her senses to answer: 'I saw... far too much, but no evidence of divine handiwork outside of a feeling of divinity as a part of everything. However, there is so much to this shared vision... that could be called a divine hand of God by some. Oh Prometheus... is there any way... to control your sight so that the chaos of the Multiverse as it is being born… does not wipe out our linked minds?' Prometheus weakly offered: 'Yes. But it would require us to be in a vastly transcendent state whilst we are just beginning the vision... ask me, once I... recover. I will tell you of this.' And so they all went their separate ways for a time to contemplate what transpired. For the first time, no one had died in the process of cosmic revelation on a mental level. And more questions were answered than ever before! Yet Pandora’s thirst for forbidden knowledge was as insatiable as all her appetites could be, whilst in his calm, serene silence Prometheus was content just with what he had been able to see. He longed to go home, and to brag of his spiritual accomplishments to his brethren and colleagues. And yet, would even one of them believe him? Some still held that the world was flat, whilst he had seen universes on end and the true shape of the planets and stars. Nothing could ever compare to that, and yet Pandora wanted so much more. Perhaps more than was even possible! She was looking to stare God in the eye, at this point.
Pandora sat in the pleasant garden on the small balcony overlooking the jungle from the floor just beneath the one that housed her living quarters. She wore a loose, comfortable sleeveless jumpsuit all of black silk that had wide, dress-like legs as she relaxed upon a divan. She had not tasted human blood in some time, and did not even care. Nothing could sate her appetite for that sight, which she could not banish from her mind. 'Millions of universes, all of them being born at the same moment. Surely... a divine hand must have set this in motion! This is the very sight that killed all those who witnessed it until now. This... very much... is the final barrier left!' As she thought on this to herself, Luca hastened in and typically: bowed low before her. 'Milady... Prometheus has disclosed to me the true nature of the state which you must so achieve, in order to prepare for the final revelation.' Pandora sprang up and walked towards her chief servant, very: very excited. 'Yes, Luca? Tell me, what is it!' Luca then cleared his throat, as if suddenly he had become that unsure of what to say, and then decided upon the proper way to word it. 'Ecstasy. How you achieve it, is up to you. How he intends to achieve it on his end… is his own business.' Pandora licked her lips as she entertained a delicious thought, and then pulled Luca towards her like a mad lover. 'My dear, dear Luca! Do invite Prometheus to the balcony. We will all sort this out together... all three of us.' She then kissed Luca savagely and pushed him away to run his new errand. She caressed her flesh through the soft fabric of her garments, and savored the sensations that the touch produced in her. It was almost time to abandon all pretense of civilized morality, she mused. And that musing granted her the tingling beginnings of real pleasure. She danced madly, spun about in a circle, and sang out loudly for any gods who might care to listen. And that was when suspicion began to nag at her. What is Prometheus was conspiring with Luca to seduce her? Perhaps in the hopes of lessening the harshness of further experimentations! That thought was enough to sober Pandora up and bring her back from the desires she was trying to suppress within herself. “I am a scientist!” she screamed. Not a harlot, to be teased with some shiny bauble, she thought. But who was playing the harlot, and was that comic vision the bauble they all were seduced by? Perhaps. And yet, anger seized Pandora over reason… and in a sudden mad rage she stormed on down the stairs.
Pandora was warning Prometheus most sternly: 'If this, is some sly way of attempting to take some kind of vile advantage and so seduce me... you will lose much!' Prometheus chuckled: 'Had I wished to seduce any one woman, in all the world, I would not have chosen you. I have come, as you so requested. What... is your own desire, woman?' Pandora then asked Prometheus quite frankly: 'Do you find me in any way attractive?' to which he truly answered: 'Ha! I have grown more fond of your eunuch.' Pandora smacked him hard across his mouth, drawing blood. She licked that blood off of her slim fingers in the most openly suggestive manner, and then laughed hysterically. Then, she said: 'Well, since you have taken so deep a liking to Luca... you can gain your own precious ecstasy with him. He is no eunuch, however, despite your filthy... assumptions.' Luca then screamed: 'He is not attractive to me! I would be far, far better served by attending to your... needs... milady.' The woman then struck him as well, but this time bloodlessly. 'How dare you so question me in such an impertinent manner, Luca! Have you become thus so fond of pain, that you think you could please me in such a manner as I would require for this final experiment?' Prometheus laughed loudly, despite his face hotly aching. 'This is like two skilled prostitutes fighting... over who gets the client!' Pandora's eyes then glared at him and she drew a knife from her belt-pouch. Swift as lightning, she slashed open the side of his face with it. 'Luca... attend to all of Prometheus' needs, including his new wound. That is an order.” And then Pandora stormed out of the room. The two men heard her footsteps pad away, then some commotion as she killed one of the servants with her knife. The servant, clearly, was not dying pleasantly and his screams and moans of agony filled the stone corridors of the building. Luca was weeping, and Prometheus was pressing hard on his face, trying to keep his bleeding at bay. “That woman has the Devil’s own temper, Luca!” he began. “No man could love her and live.” And Luca looked as though he knew something more about her in regards to that statement, but he held his tongue, save for saying: “No man has ever loved her… and lived. She is like the Black Widow spider, the natives say… she devours her mates, even in the very heat of the act of love itself!” Picturing such an image, Prometheus so groaned.
'You love her... do you not, Luca?' the Psionicist inquired, wincing as the servant did his best to stitch the man's wound closed. 'I have served her long, sir. Perhaps: too long. It is not very uncommon for certain... feelings... to develop.' Prometheus caressed the side of Luca's face as he might a woman's. Luca kissed his hand, reluctantly, as he then explained: 'That is why I now shall do as she wishes. Just... do not move your face much, or you will open your wound once again.' Then suddenly, Pandora imperiously cast wide open the door of Prometheus' room, surprising these two men. 'No! Do not stop... for me. But, since I too have such needs that require attending, at least one of you will also have to lie in love with me. I will thusly be expecting you, Luca, to be the one.' Luca laughed girlishly: 'It does seem this is to be a busy night... for me, at the very least! Very well, mistress... let us begin at once. Prometheus... I am ready for you.' The Psionicist embraced Luca fiercely, as the midnight hour cooled the fiery heat of the jungles of Africa. On the very next morning, Pandora awoke with Luca upon one side of her and with Prometheus right upon the other. Luca's hand rested upon her bosom. She was almost at the point of readiness. Only one thing was left... pain. She ran her hand down Prometheus' sleeping face and with a motion violently tore his stitches open, awakening him. His screams were loud and quite piercing. 'I am sorry, dear, dear man, but I need one thing more to know full pleasure. I shall need your blood!' Her mouth rushed upon his face, and in an instant she ceased to be anything resembling a human being. Prometheus had heard Luca’s warning, but he had not ever expected this to be the truth behind the story. Demons of that sort that Pandora was had existed in all parts of the world since time on Earth began… this Prometheus had taken as part and parcel of religious faith, dogma, and tradition. Even the ancient Pagan myths and legends spoke of such things, but never had the man believed them to be true. Until now! She was actually drinking his blood as it poured out from his gashed open face, and he feared the act of pleasuring such a fiend would cost him of his life. She had been generous, as always, but now was her turn to exact the cost of her desires. And so it went.
Part Four: Prometheus Unbound
Luca was awakened by the sound of the man screaming, only to see Pandora crouched over Prometheus with all her teeth sunk into his hideously wounded face... tearing flesh to the bone and drinking blood. Her teeth were pointed fangs, and her eyes literally glowed with a reddish fire. He had not ever seen his beloved mistress in any frenzy quite like this one before. 'Milady... what are you doing? You will surely kill him and ruin everything we've worked so hard this past night to achieve!' Pandora had now completely torn one of Prometheus' eyes from its' socket and carelessly threw it at Luca. She said, in a deep and evilly guttural growling: 'I am nearly finished! I needed his pain... I needed his blood... as I needed your love.' And tearing one final tormented scream from her victim, the vampire known as Pandora bit into him hard upon the side of his neck, ensuring he wouldn't die but rather would rise again. 'There is not any greater ecstasy, than to share the blood of immortals. Even beyond human passion, is this!' the creature hotly explained. Luca had wept... now he kept on pleading with her to grant to him this gift of immortality. 'No, Luca!' she explained: 'You are just too delicate for such agony as is our delight. You are too timid, to kill as we must to survive. I will love you always... but how could I love you... were you like unto me?' Luca walked out of the room. He knew what was now about to begin... the terrible vision that awaited both his mistress and the Psionicist, once his new 'gift' released the man from the shocks of his body's punishments. Luca could not endure the scene that would render the two perhaps insensible… or, worse: entirely inhuman. How far could two immortals… for before all was through, Pandora would make Prometheus like unto her… gaze back to in time, before enough was enough and their appetites for divinity sated? Luca could not imagine it. He could not even begin to calculate it! All he could do was walk away and weep bitterly for the two people he had lost to obsession. He dressed himself quickly, and ran up the stairs outside the room where so much pure horror now transpired that words could never suit to describe it. The air was growing hotter and hotter as the energy being unleashed built up. Luca reasoned that such energy could surely destroy the building and some of its’ surroundings if left unchecked. Yet, he could never hope to stop it. It was far too late for that! He hastened up the stairs to his own room, and decided that he would not become a martyr for this cause.
Luca gathered all his belongings. For some reason, he had a feeling he may indeed need to be leaving the facility soon. It was just as he had feared the most! At the exact same time as this, the two vampires were locked in their odd symbiosis of vision. Pandora's always-flawless pale face smiled, and it was as beautiful to behold as ever: just as Prometheus was now monstrously ugly, with half his face fleshless and skeletal whilst the other half of it was unharmed. Such a wound would have surely killed him, had he not somehow continued to live after his last torn breath had escaped him. New breath was now being pumped inside of his lungs, whilst the taste of his mistress' blood was still so warm within him. Her wrist had healed already, where she had cut it with her knife for him to drink from. Perhaps some time, he too could learn to heal and repair even his frightful countenance. For now, it was only the celestial vision, which occupied him... and Pandora’s own form, which was itself: a vision of beauty! That terrible cosmic nursery in which all universes were ready to be born, awaited them. It expanded before them, and within it was the fast rush of the chaos of untold worlds yet to be. They ventured beyond it, floating into a light grown brighter than a million times a million suns. Physical eyes would be blind before it, but the eyes they saw it through were of another sort. There was an odd intelligence within that light. All they had to do… was reach out to it from the future. And so, it just... exploded. That was what Luca thought he had now heard from below... the very distinct sound of something that had been on fire... and exploded of its’ own accord! One or both of the vampires was now dead. He could not bear to go check. 'I will mourn for you, Pandora.' He said, and then thought only of his own safety as he considered how he might easiest escape from the inferno that even now began to break out and consume the place. Even stone was powerless against the forces unleashed that day, and Luca realized at last that some things are just not meant for mankind to ever know with certainty. He would, until his dying day, be content to call God by the name of Allah, as all his countrymen did. That simple name, and simple faith, would be enough for him henceforth. Prometheus had played with fire, and Pandora had opened a forbidden seal. Now the seal was broken and the fire consumed all that she had created. Naught would remain of all her science and sorcery. And in a way, Luca was happy that naught would remain of it.
A fiery vortex of crimson ethereal light kept on exploding as it consumed Pandora's entire facility and all who were within it. All while one utterly desperate man rushed to escape from it as the inferno engulfed all in its’ way. Luca looked up as the black smoke billowed forth from what in effect had been his home for so many years on end. 'I... must try to reach the Southern Circle, and tell them the fate of miss Westyn.' he thought. And so, a year later he stood within the ornate chambers of their council where he so addressed the assembly about the failure in Africa: 'Whatever unnatural secret they learned there, my mistress and mister Blake, it did destroy them. If, in all your immaculate truth, you must tell this story to the Church of the Holy Father, or if indeed you choose to tell them anything... do also tell them to stop looking for proofs of divinity at the cost of sanity and life. It cost me the only woman I have ever loved, and the man I came to love for her very love’s sake. Do not let it claim any others! Thank you for all of your time, you dearest of gentlemen, and you fairest of ladies, but now I must truly be leaving you all. I have a life to attempt to put back together... now that human thirst for knowledge has torn it apart. Fare you well! We shall never meet again.' And out of that single meeting of the Southern Circle, it was so determined that never again would the mages of the Circle take on contract missions at the request of any churches, unless there be brought some emissary of the church's presence to oversee the entire matter personally and so prevent what was soon officially documented as a disaster. Luca indeed disappeared from all public sight and when last seen by anyone of account he was planning a rather lengthy return expedition back to Africa: for closure to what was the biggest tragedy that had ever marred his otherwise pampered life. He was a gentle man, not really a “gentleman” per se… but those long years in Pandora’s service had come the closest to hardening his heart that anything ever could. On the ship that sailed down the Nile River to the wilds of Africa beyond, he fanned himself as he looked out at the passing landscapes. Landscapes unchanged since the dawn of all civilization itself. It looked even the same as when he had passed this way when first called upon to serve Pandora in what seemed so very much like another life to him now. He was older, and he liked to think he was wiser, than he had been back then. But he needed to know whether or not anyone truly had survived.
In the shattered ruins of the old facility, Luca's guide sifted through the black ashes... and a dozen old and broken timbers. Not any trace was to be found of Pandora or Prometheus, anywhere. To desperate Luca, it would be impossible to put this part of his past to rest, until their final fate could be discovered. Turning his back to the guide, he then moved several large blasted stones out of the way. Suddenly, two dark shadows descended from the trees and the guide screamed. Luca spun around to see two lean and naked creatures feasting upon the man like unto wild animals. One of them, a woman, looked at him... and as his gaze met the feral lady's he truly recognized her. 'Pandora!' he called out. The creature did repeat the name, testing it like a child tests a word for the first time. 'Pan-Dora!' it did shriek, and Luca moved to put an arm around her reassuringly. 'Yes, love... Pandora! That was your name. My name is Luca. Do you remember me? Lu-ca.' The woman cried savagely: 'Lu-ca!' in obvious mimicry, but in her eyes there was not intelligence, not as humans know it. All of that was far gone from her. The male creature seemed too engrossed in its’ meal to notice Luca there. Luca wept bitterly for a long time, trying just to get these two to remember who they had been, but it seemed to be a lost cause. Then, the male departed back into the jungle and the female... who had at one time been Pandora... put her hands firmly unto Luca's temples in that familiar gesture, and said: 'Lu-ca! Re-mem-ber me!' and then she was lost to him for all time. She and Prometheus loped away into the humid haze of the midday jungle, having devolved to such a state of immortal barbarism that they no longer even had any command of human tongues. “To live forever, like that… is a curse, not a blessing. She must have loved me indeed, to spare me that!” Luca thought to himself. He had the closure he was seeking after for so many long, tortuous months on this journey. He had only to decide what to do with the remainder of his life. He was still young enough to start over… to perhaps even forget, but no! To forget that chapter of his life would be a disservice to those two who now needed, if anything, to be protected from the more civilized peoples that might see them as animals and hunt them down. He owed them so much more!
Epilogue: My Father's Honor
'And so, my only son, should you do happen to journey unto Africa... treat the wild peoples there with the utmost respect. At least one tribe of wild vampires is likely to be descended from Pandora, and as per her request to me so long ago, I have kept the memory of her alive, and done what I can to safeguard her even from the heartless and cruel paladins of the Holy Father himself. That is why in the very end, I returned to Arabia and became an assassin. The trade I do now pass on to you in the wild hope that you will do your family honor. Make a pilgrimage to distant Africa at least one time in your life, and leave a red rose at the ruins located on the map I sent you. If I should pass from this life when my time comes, it will fall to you to train your son, or daughter, in the arts that have become our very trade. It will also fall to you, to uphold the memory of Pandora for the very next generation. In this way she shall never be truly forgotten by mankind.' Malik had finished reading his father Luca's scroll. He had just passed the tests of the shadow guilds and become a full assassin. His mother was the head of one of those guilds… so he could not be denied this position, not even if his test failed. He burned the scroll with a match, so its’ strange secrets would stay just within their family. Within his other hand, he was holding a tall flask in which a perfectly red rose was kept preserved. It would be a long journey to Africa, but he had his father’s map to guide him, a purpose to drive him... and a tradition to carry on. 'Pandora. For my father's honor, I shall remember you!' And so it came to be, that Malik became heir to a dark secret as he also became one of the fiercest enemies the Church of the Holy Father's paladins would ever face. Often, they would clash over religion, politics, and the rights of vampires to exist freely, without human intervention in their affairs. They called him “Malik the Devil” for his championing of the vampire race, and he cultivated that mystique with a wry smile. “Let the ignorant call me Devil!” he said to himself one day. “All men are devils… beneath the skin. Some merely have causes to fight for whilst others do not.” And so he fought, even for all the days of his life. Someplace far removed from either Arabia or Africa… a council was meeting. Two vampires in shadowy cloaks stood at the head of the secret society known as the Southern Circle. They had regained their sanity and rose to such high positions through arts unknown to mere mortals. Pandora was about to begin a new experiment.
Note: I originally wrote this story back in 2008, under the name Chaos_Theocrat.
(A sinister and immoral experiment is about to be carried out in the jungles of medieval Africa by a woman whose dark secret drives her first to the brink of pure insanity... and then close unto the very threshold of creation itself, in a mad effort to prove that which cannot be proven. But all knowledge comes with a cost. For Pandora Westyn... the price would be high... perhaps far too high for anyone, living or dead, to pay.)
Prologue: The Experiment Begins
Hidden deep within the jungles of medieval Africa, a domed observatory sat with its’ long metal telescope pointed skyward like the accusing finger of an upstart titan, or the phallus of some obscene local fertility god. There, a secret experiment was taking place that it was hoped by many would increase knowledge of both human and divine nature. Thus far, however, the only fruit yet born of the effort was madness... and death. The head of the project was a mage of sorts… called a “scientist” by some… whose specialty was the manipulation of mental processes. Under her will, a subject with latent psionic talent would find their gifts a thousand times more potent, either for better or for worse. On this day it was worse. Far worse, then ever known before! And in those moments, people died. For, there are limits to where the perceptions of any mortal being may roam, even freed of the shackles of flesh. This project, however, was not about the limitations of man, but rather how to overcome them. The brutality was quite inhuman, however, and thus did the screams of the subjects of these experiments echo long and loudly into the jungle, far beyond the confines of that sadistic laboratory. Those in charge were given no limits about how they were to go about things… and due to the darkness of human nature, that lack of limitation would prove the seeds from out of which terror could be grown. The local tribes were wise enough to stay away from this place, even though supposedly civilized men and women of other nations looked down upon them more often than not, due to the foolish prejudices of that era. And so did the white man prey upon his own, whilst the regal lion and the wise old warthog carry on their own life and death dramas, as they always did and always would. This vast jungle had been the site of many such dramas since the beginning of days, and it would remain so until the end of days was come to pass. Vines choked the sides of the laboratory and the observatory that rose up from it, and it looked very much a fortress. Yet, for the time in which it was built it was a miracle! Ahead of those times by generations, it was. Whilst most of the world was recovering from the fall of the Roman Empire and the rise of Christendom and Islam as rival world powers, all eyes were looking anywhere but here. And that anonymity was the very cloak of secrecy needed by she who held sway over that building.
Part One: Mind Over Matter
'Look farther into the past, and tell me what you see.' The pale woman demanded, her voice as icy cold and utterly emotionless as ice itself is want to be. The quivering and shaking thing that had been a man responded with a voice broken by pain: 'I cannot! The headaches are getting worse, and my head is going to explode!' The woman smacked the man's face, which suddenly caused him to begin weeping. She then hissed into his ear: 'Do not try to resist the calling that drives your soul. Give in to it! Look on back, back before gods or men... back into the beginning of time. Tell me what you see there.' The man's eyes turned pure white as his power had uncontrollably manifested once again. His view of the room he was in was so even now changing from a stone cell within that terrible place in the jungle to a vista of many stars and vast expanses of nothingness broken here and there by the intensity of things being born and other more stellar things dying. Cosmic things, one and all… and all of them were beyond the man's simple understanding. It was these odd visions which broke him to the state he was in now, yet so addicted to them was he, that it seemed as if he could not either drive them away nor attempt to lessen their impact upon his horrendously shattering psyche. 'I can see explosions wherein matter is hurled forth, so cascading into other forms that I cannot guess them. But I see no gods, no goddesses... unless it is they who set these forces in motion unseen. So sweet is the pain at this point! My head throbs... ah, with the music of the spheres that moves me so.' And he heard the music, and it was not for mortal ears to hear! The message it sent out was for other beings, meant rather: to be received in future ages of time, when the listener might better understand what was heard. The man wanted to sway to the music, but he could not. He longed to reach out to those stars and galaxies that sped past his eyes, but he could not. He longed to describe what he was even now experiences, but he could not. The words were not invented yet, and those he knew would sound more like religious banter than scientific fact. Worse still… he sensed alien intelligences, but though them to be the shattering facets of his own psyche. He was slipping into a state no man had ever been sent into before… yet which had become standard practice for this project. That thought too, sent the man deep into insanity.
He was like that for over two full hours. Staring blankly into his cosmic visions, babbling about the pain and how it and his ignoble humanity affected his ability to convey what we witnessed. The woman so began, at this point, to grow angry with him and started to strike him hard with her staff, screaming with a voice like a creature out of the hells. Even so... he could not tell her more, not even if he knew what to say. All his tired muscles and veins bulged, and strained, visibly... as red blood began to trickle forth from his nostrils, then his ears, and most finally his eyes and his mouth. It had sprayed as he screamed under the iron intensity of pain, which was amplified by the woman's own mental powers. He was screaming loudly still, when his head literally exploded, spraying all its' contents all over his stone cell. The woman, expecting this, had left the room and watched the man's bloody death through the window set precisely eye-level into the thick cell door. 'Just like all the others!' she muttered, 'Too powerless to look back any farther than the moment of creation. How can we prove the existence of the gods, or of one God above all others, if all we can see is their mere handiwork, but not their hands?' She stormed off insanely determined, and if anything angry at the expense of this project, rather than at the cost in human life. Her servants were already on their way to clean up this latest disaster. All the man's blood would be harvested for her use, as always. Beauty has a high price, and for this woman, that price was human life. Some speculated it was the intense heat of the African jungle that drove her to such fierce insanity. She had been there for years on end, and could not easily recall a time when she had lived elsewhere. Even her childhood was spent amongst the tribes of that land, and it was said that a powerful witch doctor had taught her the arcane arts she now practiced. There was no other white woman who was more respected and feared in all of Africa than she! And because she had become used to being feared and respected, she carried that attitude over towards those who in any other circumstance might be considered her peers. People hated working with her, and yet there was the strangest attraction she held for those who did come into her presence. Something raw, almost sexual, and of a power both primal and impossible to describe! Just like the riddle she sought to unlock, she was herself an enigma. How fitting, then, that she should crack that riddle… that was her thought on the issue.
'Pandora Westyn, we of the Southern Circle find your methods to be too brutal and in all cases useless to yield the results that the Church of the Holy Father paid you for. If it were merely some lofty astronomical evidence for the universe being created that they thus desired, you would be well commended for what you have obtained, despite the blood you've shed. However, all you can tell us is that there was no direct sign of the gods' involvement in creation, nor any direct sign of a single omnipotent God above them… and this does nothing to settle the matter at hand. We cannot keep your expensive needs going too much farther at this point, unless your next report shows us that you have at the very least stepped beyond this... barrier... that seems to prevent any further seeing.' Thus read the scroll, which bore the seal of the arch-mage Jove Palthanon. Pandora, in her anger, caused it to burn to a cinder with a thought. 'Brutal?' she mused, 'That is nothing compared to what I will do if the next fool of a Psionicist that is brought to me is as useless as all the rest have been!' She licked the dead man's blood from her fingertips before smoothing back her jet-black hair. His death was still fresh, yet she needed another soon, if the greedy Church of the Holy Father was to be fully satisfied. Her bone white skin glistened in the flickering torchlight, which itself burned like the madness in her distant blue eyes. Picking up a cup linked to a wire that was oddly attached to a wall, she called into it for her servants: her favorite servant. The man on the other end received her summons, and passed the word along to the servants. Such technology was unheard of elsewhere in the world at that time, but Pandora had transcended time’s limitations long ago, glimpsing futures in which such things not only would exist… but become as commonplace as pen and parchment was back then, if not more so. She had the closest equivalent to those devices built, and she knew all too well that one day the Church would burn her as a heretic. At least, once it decided that it no longer required her heresies in order to solve the mysteries it now was debating upon. As great councils met to decide what was to be allowed in the Holy Bible and what was to be rejected… the secret society known as the Southern Circle was paid to find out the true nature of God, at any cost and using any means necessary, Pagan or Christian. Pandora was sorely afraid for her life, whenever a new message from outside came in. It could well be the very last!
'This new man is called Prometheus Blake. He is said to be something of a pure genius within the field of Psionics. A gifted visionary as well as a prophet, according to all this paperwork.' The effeminate servant had always tried to stress a candidate's good qualities to Pandora, at least during these initial phases of a new person's introduction into her brutal experiment's program. Pandora ran her hands down the servant's thighs. She delighted in the thin fabrics he wore, doubtless to please her senses. While breathing heavily, she said: 'Yes, my delicious pet, I am certain he must be a regular Merlin of the Psionic arts! So bring him before me, and let me look him in the eyes. That is oft the usual test, is it not?' The ever-fawning servant, although not used to the touch of a woman, could not disguise his pleasure when his mistress began to caress him in an even more intimate manner. 'Yes, milady... that is the usual... test.' To which the pale lady responded by cooing: 'Very good, then, Luca! Once I've... dismissed... you, I want you to go off and fetch me Prometheus from the lobby for our meeting. The sooner we get on with it, the better. If I can get him to look back beyond creation, I will have succeeded in unlocking the most forbidden knowledge of all. Then, it will be meaningless, which of the many churches curries for my favor! I will have them all eating from my... talented... hand.' Luca nearly fainted as she granted him the inevitable pleasure she always was generous enough to bestow. “Be off now, Luca! And clean yourself up before fetching our guest. We must make as good an impression on him as he surely must wish to make upon us with such glowing recommendations and endorsements as you describe.” And so Luca walked out of the room, blushing red from the intimate exchange. Pandora was known to be very free with sexuality in general, and she did not see this: as being a harlot… so much as it was her manner of expressing herself. To her, pleasure was an art, as was pain. As were the arcane powers she practiced. Everything, to her, was art. And art, therefore, was her way of life. “I am a witch, as well as a whore!” she was fond of admitting. Those who knew her: the best, had realized long ago she was not in jest about either of those occupations, either. To her all was art.
Part Two: Prometheus Bound
Prometheus was a bear of a man, by all appearances, but he wore the robes of a rich scholar, and spoke with the cultured manners of a true English noble. Luca found him very much to his liking but said nothing as he escorted the newcomer to his mistress. 'It is just up these spiral stairs, here. The main telescope chamber is in her personal domain, and all who wish to join our program must meet with her there and be fully instructed in the rules of this, our facility.' Prometheus... noticing the odd way Luca often looked him over... said to him at length: 'And what is a fop like you, doing out here in these humid lands of Africa? I could see you faring better buried in the intrigues of Versailles, where anything goes and often does even in the king’s own family.' Luca, detecting something of an insult in the man's tone, responded with the most cruel edge in his voice: 'You may be a scholar, but do tame your wit! It will serve only to quicken your end. Africa is known to be a violent land, and the only law in this place is that which Pandora Westyn provides for us. Remember that, should you think to try your wit on her!' Prometheus laughed even as merrily as he ascended the stairs two at a time saying: 'Well, the fop has teeth I can see! Lead on, then, friend fop, and let us see if this mistress of yours indeed has not any sense of humor to speak of.' Luca so muttered in a tone very sarcastically-edged: 'Oh do not fear, friend... she has a sense of humor. I think you are fated to run afoul of it. Perhaps... you may even enjoy it!' And to that, Prometheus found little he could say that would better his current situation. He was a long way from anything that might be called civilized by the men of his era and nation. Since coming to Africa, he had noticed the swiftness of tribal justice when he spotted the heads of dissenters on wooden stakes near many outlying villages near the savannah lands. It was nothing unknown in Eastern Europe, and the Turks were certainly every bit as barbaric in the way they treated criminals and prisoners of war. People speak much of civilization, but when you pull the veil away and see into the hearts of others… you know that it is merely an illusion, to hide the beast within. On his way south, Prometheus had seen many beasts, and the worst were of his own country. He tried to be all they were not, with his kindness and renowned chivalry. People called him a fool… but he had his morals!
'And lastly, newcomer, you are to remember that this is my own personal observatory, and these are my personal laboratories. So, you will not leave your room unless called or you will end up in a cell like all the rest before you have. Is that now fully understood?' Prometheus had stood as meekly as he could whilst Pandora ever sharply berated him like this for a long hour. 'Yes, mistress.' was all he said. 'Good! In your eyes... I see, an explosion of no small talent. But we have had enough explosions of talent in this place to last an eternity!' at which Luca laughed most peculiarly. Then the woman soberly resumed, her merciless tirade... 'Talent is worthless without direction. My powers will aid you in the focusing of your abilities. But be forewarned: none, have survived this experiment in reality.' Prometheus had bowed, and said flatly: 'I understand, mistress. I will prove to be different.' Pandora nodded and pointed at Luca, who then escorted Prometheus off to the guest room. She watched as the two totally different types of men disappeared off into the shadows of the old stairwell. Luca, with his pantaloons, slippers, and vested blouse was the very picture of a fussy Arabian servant man; his deep bronzed skin and delicate, beautiful face were framed by a curly mane of dark black hair held back in an almost girlish ponytail. His lack of any facial hair would have labeled him as a eunuch anywhere else. While Prometheus... with his wild hair, unkempt beard, and stately robes was almost the picture of that type of clergyman who was fond of his drink and even fonder of the pleasures of the flesh. Skin of rosy hue, and a voice like a lion. If he had been a priest… he could have preached mightily. And yet, he seemed quiet and subdued… unlike Luca, who was quick with a remark at any time. Men were mysterious to her. The more she pleasured them, the less she understood them. And yet, that mystery tantalized her as much as the mystery of divinity and matters cosmic. She licked long, her moist lips as she bit into a strawberry and savored the sweetness of its’ taste, sucking the juices from it as fervently as she had sucked blood from the occasional victim of her wrath. It was sweet to her… that taste… like the power she held over others. And yet, she had never been selfish even with her lusts, and if anything put others’ pleasure before her own! She was a paradox of a woman, and that is why her closest confidants loved her more than their own lives. Luca surely loved her… but what of this Prometheus fellow?
Pandora lay back in her diaphanous gown, her head resting gently upon a satin pillow as she gazed up at the planetarium that lined the inner dome of the observatory's top floor, where the telescope poked on out through a hole in a painted image of the moon. It was appropriate, the woman mused about it. Meanwhile, Prometheus looked about him at the cold walls of his Spartan room. He was grateful they were cold, since outside it was humid to say the least. He peeked out the window set into the door, to see Luca scurrying about with his swaying barmaid's strut. 'He's got the hips for it, I will gladly grant him that!' whispered the Psionicist, his voice giddy at having gotten away with voicing his almost sincere jest. Just then, he had felt Pandora's cold mind intruding upon his own like a probe thrusting in as it invaded his deepest thoughts. He could feel the power in her will, and he allowed it to augment his already considerable abilities. He was not like those others had been, as had come to this place before: as the terrible mistress noticed. If anyone at all could look beyond creation's veil, it would be this one. 'Creation's veil, eh?' mused Prometheus at that revelation of her plans whilst their thought connected in mental intercourse. 'Well, she could have told me rather than resort to this... mental rape!' And that was exactly what this was, as it had made him feel most unclean, this invasion of himself by her mind. Evil was deeply hidden within her being, he realized... and it was an evil that fed on dark obsession, and corruption. Yet also, there was something else, there was the purity of purpose and madness of temperament known only to those artists whose work people call genius. He wanted to hate and despise Pandora, but he found himself forced to at the very least admire her. That evil she hid… he sensed it was something she was unable to help. And that made him sad for her. Pity did well up in him rather than anger, and in that moment there was clarity in his own understanding of her that made him see her in a new light. “Not so much the ice queen now, are you?” he mused. “More a queen of ice and fire, I’d wager!” and he let himself picture her naked. Something about that aroused him, and made him feel guilty for that feeling. “I want to hate you!” he screamed at her, knowing her thoughts would pick it up. But she knew his unspoken words… “I want to hate you! Because you make me long for you so hotly.” His gift to her, he wished, could be more than the fire of his mind. And Prometheus wished to be unbound.
Pandora had walked into Prometheus' chambers and found him already staring blankly as his eyes looked upon the alien landscapes of prehistory. She could sense as much of this through her link with him, newly established though that link was, as through any real guessing. Placing her hands' palms firmly upon his temples, she added literally all of her will to his own. Soon, the strength of their combined effort began to have the most unexpected of effects, of causing both Pandora and Prometheus to see as if it were through one field of vision. And the sights they saw were very swiftly unhinging their collective sanity. 'It is just far too much!' audibly cried the woman, as if now pleading with the Psionicist to cease. But all he said to her was: 'This is what you wanted, is it not? Behold, the threshold none have ever passed by before!' and they saw an immense spiral of light in the heart of the primordial void, more massive than anything that had ever met their eyes. And from this spiral came what would have been music had the void between the stars the capacity to carry sound through it to human ears. And then, the onlookers realized that this was never at all intended for human eyes or ears to bear witness to. Prometheus directed his vision to pierce the spiral's light, and Pandora began to scream as millions of images flooded into her head. Over one million times a million universes: all of them running parallel to one another from the center of creation. All of them waiting to be born, from the chaos of the star-stuff in this vast... nursery. All of them being born, drifting apart, and living out their existences never knowing of any others save only at that moment when they were created together. They lived, they died, and new ones were born to take their place. Cycles upon cycles of time, and all of that without any beginning or any end! For how could the end be distinguished from the dawn… since one was the gateway to the other? Symbols flew through the mind. The symbols that early man had used to define infinite time and the multiplicity of reality: the ankh, the hourglass, and the simplest of all… the circle or sphere. So simple, and yet so evocative of the divine! There was no visible hand of God, for the spirit of divinity was a part of everything innately from the first days unto the last. Why should God need to manifest himself, when he is manifest in all of creation itself? Mankind’s vision is simply too poor to see it.
Part Three: Prometheus Punished
Luca saw that his dear mistress was now beginning to bleed swiftly from her nose, and at once he sprang forward, pushing her back from her hands' death-like grip upon Promethus' head. Prometheus, in his turn, tumbled back unto the floor from his chair, his ethereal visions ending abruptly. Pandora stood crouched in a corner, her hands over her eyes. Luca rushed forward to see what transpired with her. 'Milady... are you well? You seem...' but Pandora was very far from well, and she raised one of her hands in warning for him to back off. Luca, in his reluctant obedience, did so and went over to check on the now totally unmoving Psionicist. 'It is a miracle he still lives! Did either of you see it? What was manifesting just up behind your heads, when milady began to... bleed?' Luca's question was meant sincerely, but neither of the two in the room besides him gave any answer. 'A vortex of some sort...' he answered for them, 'Red as hellfire, and building in great power!' Pandora suddenly came back to her senses to answer: 'I saw... far too much, but no evidence of divine handiwork outside of a feeling of divinity as a part of everything. However, there is so much to this shared vision... that could be called a divine hand of God by some. Oh Prometheus... is there any way... to control your sight so that the chaos of the Multiverse as it is being born… does not wipe out our linked minds?' Prometheus weakly offered: 'Yes. But it would require us to be in a vastly transcendent state whilst we are just beginning the vision... ask me, once I... recover. I will tell you of this.' And so they all went their separate ways for a time to contemplate what transpired. For the first time, no one had died in the process of cosmic revelation on a mental level. And more questions were answered than ever before! Yet Pandora’s thirst for forbidden knowledge was as insatiable as all her appetites could be, whilst in his calm, serene silence Prometheus was content just with what he had been able to see. He longed to go home, and to brag of his spiritual accomplishments to his brethren and colleagues. And yet, would even one of them believe him? Some still held that the world was flat, whilst he had seen universes on end and the true shape of the planets and stars. Nothing could ever compare to that, and yet Pandora wanted so much more. Perhaps more than was even possible! She was looking to stare God in the eye, at this point.
Pandora sat in the pleasant garden on the small balcony overlooking the jungle from the floor just beneath the one that housed her living quarters. She wore a loose, comfortable sleeveless jumpsuit all of black silk that had wide, dress-like legs as she relaxed upon a divan. She had not tasted human blood in some time, and did not even care. Nothing could sate her appetite for that sight, which she could not banish from her mind. 'Millions of universes, all of them being born at the same moment. Surely... a divine hand must have set this in motion! This is the very sight that killed all those who witnessed it until now. This... very much... is the final barrier left!' As she thought on this to herself, Luca hastened in and typically: bowed low before her. 'Milady... Prometheus has disclosed to me the true nature of the state which you must so achieve, in order to prepare for the final revelation.' Pandora sprang up and walked towards her chief servant, very: very excited. 'Yes, Luca? Tell me, what is it!' Luca then cleared his throat, as if suddenly he had become that unsure of what to say, and then decided upon the proper way to word it. 'Ecstasy. How you achieve it, is up to you. How he intends to achieve it on his end… is his own business.' Pandora licked her lips as she entertained a delicious thought, and then pulled Luca towards her like a mad lover. 'My dear, dear Luca! Do invite Prometheus to the balcony. We will all sort this out together... all three of us.' She then kissed Luca savagely and pushed him away to run his new errand. She caressed her flesh through the soft fabric of her garments, and savored the sensations that the touch produced in her. It was almost time to abandon all pretense of civilized morality, she mused. And that musing granted her the tingling beginnings of real pleasure. She danced madly, spun about in a circle, and sang out loudly for any gods who might care to listen. And that was when suspicion began to nag at her. What is Prometheus was conspiring with Luca to seduce her? Perhaps in the hopes of lessening the harshness of further experimentations! That thought was enough to sober Pandora up and bring her back from the desires she was trying to suppress within herself. “I am a scientist!” she screamed. Not a harlot, to be teased with some shiny bauble, she thought. But who was playing the harlot, and was that comic vision the bauble they all were seduced by? Perhaps. And yet, anger seized Pandora over reason… and in a sudden mad rage she stormed on down the stairs.
Pandora was warning Prometheus most sternly: 'If this, is some sly way of attempting to take some kind of vile advantage and so seduce me... you will lose much!' Prometheus chuckled: 'Had I wished to seduce any one woman, in all the world, I would not have chosen you. I have come, as you so requested. What... is your own desire, woman?' Pandora then asked Prometheus quite frankly: 'Do you find me in any way attractive?' to which he truly answered: 'Ha! I have grown more fond of your eunuch.' Pandora smacked him hard across his mouth, drawing blood. She licked that blood off of her slim fingers in the most openly suggestive manner, and then laughed hysterically. Then, she said: 'Well, since you have taken so deep a liking to Luca... you can gain your own precious ecstasy with him. He is no eunuch, however, despite your filthy... assumptions.' Luca then screamed: 'He is not attractive to me! I would be far, far better served by attending to your... needs... milady.' The woman then struck him as well, but this time bloodlessly. 'How dare you so question me in such an impertinent manner, Luca! Have you become thus so fond of pain, that you think you could please me in such a manner as I would require for this final experiment?' Prometheus laughed loudly, despite his face hotly aching. 'This is like two skilled prostitutes fighting... over who gets the client!' Pandora's eyes then glared at him and she drew a knife from her belt-pouch. Swift as lightning, she slashed open the side of his face with it. 'Luca... attend to all of Prometheus' needs, including his new wound. That is an order.” And then Pandora stormed out of the room. The two men heard her footsteps pad away, then some commotion as she killed one of the servants with her knife. The servant, clearly, was not dying pleasantly and his screams and moans of agony filled the stone corridors of the building. Luca was weeping, and Prometheus was pressing hard on his face, trying to keep his bleeding at bay. “That woman has the Devil’s own temper, Luca!” he began. “No man could love her and live.” And Luca looked as though he knew something more about her in regards to that statement, but he held his tongue, save for saying: “No man has ever loved her… and lived. She is like the Black Widow spider, the natives say… she devours her mates, even in the very heat of the act of love itself!” Picturing such an image, Prometheus so groaned.
'You love her... do you not, Luca?' the Psionicist inquired, wincing as the servant did his best to stitch the man's wound closed. 'I have served her long, sir. Perhaps: too long. It is not very uncommon for certain... feelings... to develop.' Prometheus caressed the side of Luca's face as he might a woman's. Luca kissed his hand, reluctantly, as he then explained: 'That is why I now shall do as she wishes. Just... do not move your face much, or you will open your wound once again.' Then suddenly, Pandora imperiously cast wide open the door of Prometheus' room, surprising these two men. 'No! Do not stop... for me. But, since I too have such needs that require attending, at least one of you will also have to lie in love with me. I will thusly be expecting you, Luca, to be the one.' Luca laughed girlishly: 'It does seem this is to be a busy night... for me, at the very least! Very well, mistress... let us begin at once. Prometheus... I am ready for you.' The Psionicist embraced Luca fiercely, as the midnight hour cooled the fiery heat of the jungles of Africa. On the very next morning, Pandora awoke with Luca upon one side of her and with Prometheus right upon the other. Luca's hand rested upon her bosom. She was almost at the point of readiness. Only one thing was left... pain. She ran her hand down Prometheus' sleeping face and with a motion violently tore his stitches open, awakening him. His screams were loud and quite piercing. 'I am sorry, dear, dear man, but I need one thing more to know full pleasure. I shall need your blood!' Her mouth rushed upon his face, and in an instant she ceased to be anything resembling a human being. Prometheus had heard Luca’s warning, but he had not ever expected this to be the truth behind the story. Demons of that sort that Pandora was had existed in all parts of the world since time on Earth began… this Prometheus had taken as part and parcel of religious faith, dogma, and tradition. Even the ancient Pagan myths and legends spoke of such things, but never had the man believed them to be true. Until now! She was actually drinking his blood as it poured out from his gashed open face, and he feared the act of pleasuring such a fiend would cost him of his life. She had been generous, as always, but now was her turn to exact the cost of her desires. And so it went.
Part Four: Prometheus Unbound
Luca was awakened by the sound of the man screaming, only to see Pandora crouched over Prometheus with all her teeth sunk into his hideously wounded face... tearing flesh to the bone and drinking blood. Her teeth were pointed fangs, and her eyes literally glowed with a reddish fire. He had not ever seen his beloved mistress in any frenzy quite like this one before. 'Milady... what are you doing? You will surely kill him and ruin everything we've worked so hard this past night to achieve!' Pandora had now completely torn one of Prometheus' eyes from its' socket and carelessly threw it at Luca. She said, in a deep and evilly guttural growling: 'I am nearly finished! I needed his pain... I needed his blood... as I needed your love.' And tearing one final tormented scream from her victim, the vampire known as Pandora bit into him hard upon the side of his neck, ensuring he wouldn't die but rather would rise again. 'There is not any greater ecstasy, than to share the blood of immortals. Even beyond human passion, is this!' the creature hotly explained. Luca had wept... now he kept on pleading with her to grant to him this gift of immortality. 'No, Luca!' she explained: 'You are just too delicate for such agony as is our delight. You are too timid, to kill as we must to survive. I will love you always... but how could I love you... were you like unto me?' Luca walked out of the room. He knew what was now about to begin... the terrible vision that awaited both his mistress and the Psionicist, once his new 'gift' released the man from the shocks of his body's punishments. Luca could not endure the scene that would render the two perhaps insensible… or, worse: entirely inhuman. How far could two immortals… for before all was through, Pandora would make Prometheus like unto her… gaze back to in time, before enough was enough and their appetites for divinity sated? Luca could not imagine it. He could not even begin to calculate it! All he could do was walk away and weep bitterly for the two people he had lost to obsession. He dressed himself quickly, and ran up the stairs outside the room where so much pure horror now transpired that words could never suit to describe it. The air was growing hotter and hotter as the energy being unleashed built up. Luca reasoned that such energy could surely destroy the building and some of its’ surroundings if left unchecked. Yet, he could never hope to stop it. It was far too late for that! He hastened up the stairs to his own room, and decided that he would not become a martyr for this cause.
Luca gathered all his belongings. For some reason, he had a feeling he may indeed need to be leaving the facility soon. It was just as he had feared the most! At the exact same time as this, the two vampires were locked in their odd symbiosis of vision. Pandora's always-flawless pale face smiled, and it was as beautiful to behold as ever: just as Prometheus was now monstrously ugly, with half his face fleshless and skeletal whilst the other half of it was unharmed. Such a wound would have surely killed him, had he not somehow continued to live after his last torn breath had escaped him. New breath was now being pumped inside of his lungs, whilst the taste of his mistress' blood was still so warm within him. Her wrist had healed already, where she had cut it with her knife for him to drink from. Perhaps some time, he too could learn to heal and repair even his frightful countenance. For now, it was only the celestial vision, which occupied him... and Pandora’s own form, which was itself: a vision of beauty! That terrible cosmic nursery in which all universes were ready to be born, awaited them. It expanded before them, and within it was the fast rush of the chaos of untold worlds yet to be. They ventured beyond it, floating into a light grown brighter than a million times a million suns. Physical eyes would be blind before it, but the eyes they saw it through were of another sort. There was an odd intelligence within that light. All they had to do… was reach out to it from the future. And so, it just... exploded. That was what Luca thought he had now heard from below... the very distinct sound of something that had been on fire... and exploded of its’ own accord! One or both of the vampires was now dead. He could not bear to go check. 'I will mourn for you, Pandora.' He said, and then thought only of his own safety as he considered how he might easiest escape from the inferno that even now began to break out and consume the place. Even stone was powerless against the forces unleashed that day, and Luca realized at last that some things are just not meant for mankind to ever know with certainty. He would, until his dying day, be content to call God by the name of Allah, as all his countrymen did. That simple name, and simple faith, would be enough for him henceforth. Prometheus had played with fire, and Pandora had opened a forbidden seal. Now the seal was broken and the fire consumed all that she had created. Naught would remain of all her science and sorcery. And in a way, Luca was happy that naught would remain of it.
A fiery vortex of crimson ethereal light kept on exploding as it consumed Pandora's entire facility and all who were within it. All while one utterly desperate man rushed to escape from it as the inferno engulfed all in its’ way. Luca looked up as the black smoke billowed forth from what in effect had been his home for so many years on end. 'I... must try to reach the Southern Circle, and tell them the fate of miss Westyn.' he thought. And so, a year later he stood within the ornate chambers of their council where he so addressed the assembly about the failure in Africa: 'Whatever unnatural secret they learned there, my mistress and mister Blake, it did destroy them. If, in all your immaculate truth, you must tell this story to the Church of the Holy Father, or if indeed you choose to tell them anything... do also tell them to stop looking for proofs of divinity at the cost of sanity and life. It cost me the only woman I have ever loved, and the man I came to love for her very love’s sake. Do not let it claim any others! Thank you for all of your time, you dearest of gentlemen, and you fairest of ladies, but now I must truly be leaving you all. I have a life to attempt to put back together... now that human thirst for knowledge has torn it apart. Fare you well! We shall never meet again.' And out of that single meeting of the Southern Circle, it was so determined that never again would the mages of the Circle take on contract missions at the request of any churches, unless there be brought some emissary of the church's presence to oversee the entire matter personally and so prevent what was soon officially documented as a disaster. Luca indeed disappeared from all public sight and when last seen by anyone of account he was planning a rather lengthy return expedition back to Africa: for closure to what was the biggest tragedy that had ever marred his otherwise pampered life. He was a gentle man, not really a “gentleman” per se… but those long years in Pandora’s service had come the closest to hardening his heart that anything ever could. On the ship that sailed down the Nile River to the wilds of Africa beyond, he fanned himself as he looked out at the passing landscapes. Landscapes unchanged since the dawn of all civilization itself. It looked even the same as when he had passed this way when first called upon to serve Pandora in what seemed so very much like another life to him now. He was older, and he liked to think he was wiser, than he had been back then. But he needed to know whether or not anyone truly had survived.
In the shattered ruins of the old facility, Luca's guide sifted through the black ashes... and a dozen old and broken timbers. Not any trace was to be found of Pandora or Prometheus, anywhere. To desperate Luca, it would be impossible to put this part of his past to rest, until their final fate could be discovered. Turning his back to the guide, he then moved several large blasted stones out of the way. Suddenly, two dark shadows descended from the trees and the guide screamed. Luca spun around to see two lean and naked creatures feasting upon the man like unto wild animals. One of them, a woman, looked at him... and as his gaze met the feral lady's he truly recognized her. 'Pandora!' he called out. The creature did repeat the name, testing it like a child tests a word for the first time. 'Pan-Dora!' it did shriek, and Luca moved to put an arm around her reassuringly. 'Yes, love... Pandora! That was your name. My name is Luca. Do you remember me? Lu-ca.' The woman cried savagely: 'Lu-ca!' in obvious mimicry, but in her eyes there was not intelligence, not as humans know it. All of that was far gone from her. The male creature seemed too engrossed in its’ meal to notice Luca there. Luca wept bitterly for a long time, trying just to get these two to remember who they had been, but it seemed to be a lost cause. Then, the male departed back into the jungle and the female... who had at one time been Pandora... put her hands firmly unto Luca's temples in that familiar gesture, and said: 'Lu-ca! Re-mem-ber me!' and then she was lost to him for all time. She and Prometheus loped away into the humid haze of the midday jungle, having devolved to such a state of immortal barbarism that they no longer even had any command of human tongues. “To live forever, like that… is a curse, not a blessing. She must have loved me indeed, to spare me that!” Luca thought to himself. He had the closure he was seeking after for so many long, tortuous months on this journey. He had only to decide what to do with the remainder of his life. He was still young enough to start over… to perhaps even forget, but no! To forget that chapter of his life would be a disservice to those two who now needed, if anything, to be protected from the more civilized peoples that might see them as animals and hunt them down. He owed them so much more!
Epilogue: My Father's Honor
'And so, my only son, should you do happen to journey unto Africa... treat the wild peoples there with the utmost respect. At least one tribe of wild vampires is likely to be descended from Pandora, and as per her request to me so long ago, I have kept the memory of her alive, and done what I can to safeguard her even from the heartless and cruel paladins of the Holy Father himself. That is why in the very end, I returned to Arabia and became an assassin. The trade I do now pass on to you in the wild hope that you will do your family honor. Make a pilgrimage to distant Africa at least one time in your life, and leave a red rose at the ruins located on the map I sent you. If I should pass from this life when my time comes, it will fall to you to train your son, or daughter, in the arts that have become our very trade. It will also fall to you, to uphold the memory of Pandora for the very next generation. In this way she shall never be truly forgotten by mankind.' Malik had finished reading his father Luca's scroll. He had just passed the tests of the shadow guilds and become a full assassin. His mother was the head of one of those guilds… so he could not be denied this position, not even if his test failed. He burned the scroll with a match, so its’ strange secrets would stay just within their family. Within his other hand, he was holding a tall flask in which a perfectly red rose was kept preserved. It would be a long journey to Africa, but he had his father’s map to guide him, a purpose to drive him... and a tradition to carry on. 'Pandora. For my father's honor, I shall remember you!' And so it came to be, that Malik became heir to a dark secret as he also became one of the fiercest enemies the Church of the Holy Father's paladins would ever face. Often, they would clash over religion, politics, and the rights of vampires to exist freely, without human intervention in their affairs. They called him “Malik the Devil” for his championing of the vampire race, and he cultivated that mystique with a wry smile. “Let the ignorant call me Devil!” he said to himself one day. “All men are devils… beneath the skin. Some merely have causes to fight for whilst others do not.” And so he fought, even for all the days of his life. Someplace far removed from either Arabia or Africa… a council was meeting. Two vampires in shadowy cloaks stood at the head of the secret society known as the Southern Circle. They had regained their sanity and rose to such high positions through arts unknown to mere mortals. Pandora was about to begin a new experiment.
Published 19th Jan 2012
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